


Drunken Surprise

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hangover, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Memory Loss, Morning After, Tumblr Prompt, gentleman shiro, woke up soul-mated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: nevermoree-trsaid:A soulmate AU because I love this kind of AUs, so, here I go. "When someone writes on your skin it appears in my skin too and now I have this phone number in my hand and... It's my own phone number? And it's my hand writing???!! But I can't remember what I did yesterday" [sparkle heart emoji] [sparkle emoji]





	Drunken Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevermoree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermoree/gifts).



> nevermoree always had the best of ideas, lbr. love soulmate aus <3
> 
> so this is one of the very specific prompt fics im moving from tumblr
> 
> [originally posted august 2nd, 2018](http://cryingovershance.tumblr.com/post/176567346684/a-soulmate-au-because-i-love-this-kind-of-aus-so)

Shiro wakes with an pounding headache and an itchy feeling all over his skin. As he starts to sit up, he groans and then presses a hand to his forehead when it aches a little more. The room swims with more movement than he’s creating, so he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way it still feels like he’s spinning even if he knows he’s not moving and he can’t see. 

 

Damn, this is why he doesn’t drink. Not to mention that, as he tries to remember just  _how much_  he drank, he can’t remember a single thing. He’s not even sure what the special case was. He better find out that was pretty fucking special, to be feeling like he’s two steps from puking if he turns too fast. 

 

He gives himself a couple minutes to get used to being awake and let his body punish him for whatever happened before he can open his eyes again. He drops his arms to his sides and is prepared to turn over and reach for his phone on the desk when he realizes he’s not in his bed. In fact, he’s not in any bed.

 

But he is on a couch. One that he thankfully recognizes is his own. And after carefully,  _carefully_  leaning over the edge of it, he can see that his phone is on the floor beside him. That’s a fantastic place for it to get stepped on. 

 

He notices something written on his arm. In slightly smudged black sharpie, he can make out numbers that look a little familiar. In fact, the writing itself is, too, especially the fours, that everyone teases him for, because they’re usually so sloppy they look like nines. 

 

He has his won handwriting on his arm. And after his brain kicks in a little further, he notices that it’s his own number as well. His first thought is to wonder just what he was doing last night, but… maybe his drunk self was just planning ahead? Maybe he knew he’d forget a lot of stuff, including his own number?

 

Oh well. He picks himself up off the couch, grabbing his phone along the way. It’s not that late, he can probably stand to spend a few more hours in his bed, where it’ll be more comfortable and he can plug his phone in. AS he shambles along like some kind of zombie, he rubs his face and tries not to run into anything. 

 

He’s doing pretty well, up until the moment he opens the door and trips over a loose shoe at the sight that greets him. 

 

There, on his bed, is a man. A man that he has never met in his life. Well, unless he was someone Shiro met last night and subsequently does not remember, but he could very well just be some man that broke into Shiro’s house and kicked him out to the couch. 

 

…He wonders if this man is part of the reason he drank so much last night. 

 

At the sound of Shiro stumbling, the man turns over in his sleep, and there, against his skin, Shiro makes out a series of numbers that match the ones on his own arm, in the same place.

 

Oh. Oh,  _fuck_. 

 

That’s a special kind of irony, for him to meet his soulmate and remember none of it. 

 

Before he can really do anything, or even think past that, his soulmate reaches up to scrub at his own eyes. Shiro holds his breath, watching, as the man then pauses, like he can tell there are eyes on him, before he looks around the room and freezes when he sees Shiro. 

 

All for about three seconds, before a grin unfurls on his mouth and he lifts the blanket up and pats the bed beside him. He shifts to make room and whispers, voice throaty, “Hey, man. This must be your bed. Ready to share it now?”

 

“Do you remember what happened?” Shiro asks and god, he needs a drink of water, or better, to brush his teeth because his mouth feels really gross. He does step forward, however, and his soulmate waits until he’s closer to say anything. “I can’t remember anything.”

 

He gets a laugh for that. “And yet you trust the strange man in your bed?”

 

Shiro sits on the edge of the bed and frowns. Pointing to his arm, at the writing, then at his soulmate’s, he explains, “We’re soulmates. I assume that had something to do with it.”

 

At that, his soulmate smiles again, but it’s something softer, and filled with a little bit of wonder. It makes Shiro’s insides feel a little cottony, and taps his fingers against the sheets. “Yeah…” His soulmate licks his lips and then ducks his head. “We found that out last night. You wanted to give me your number, but when you found out I’d have to take a cab back to my place, you suggested I walk with you back to yours.”

 

Ah. Shiro feels a tad bit embarrassed about how forward he was, even if he only knows of it from hearing this. 

 

His soulmate catches onto this and reaches forward in a pacifying way. “Don’t worry. You pretty much stressed how you’d be on the couch.” He puts a hand on Shiro’s leg, and his skin burns at the touch, spreading all the way to his torso. “I could already tell you’re quite the gentleman.”

 

Shiro opens his mouth to say something back, mostly to dispute that, but he catches the look his soulmate is sending him. It’s fond, affectionate, and knowing. He doesn’t know just what to do with it, and everything about this guy is making him feel a little unbalanced. He isn’t sure how much better he’d stand with him, even when he wasn’t hungover.

 

“Here,” he says, when Shiro stays silent, and lifts his hand to grasp Shiro’s. He shakes it. “My name’s Lance. Would you like to get to know each other over some coffee? No more drinks, I promise.”

 

He shoots a wink with that statement, but when Shiro starts to smile with a nod, there’s a flush that grows in his cheeks that comforts Shiro. Maybe after breakfast, they’ll find themselves on pretty equal ground. 


End file.
